


The Thief and the Ningyou

by Heronfem



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Edo Period, M/M, Romance, Youkai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 11:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: There's a youkai that lives in the daimyo's estate, they say. They say he keeps a grand lake within the walls and a youkai lives within it. They say it's jealously guarded, the lake patrolled night and day by well trained guards that watch the lake to keep people away from it. They say only the daimyo is allowed near it.Matsukawa Issei couldn't care less about a mad daimyo's obsession, but as a professional thief he's inclined to beveryinterested in the daimyo's wealth.





	The Thief and the Ningyou

There's a youkai that lives in the daimyo's estate, they say. They say he keeps a grand lake within the walls and a youkai lives within it. They say it's jealously guarded, the lake patrolled night and day by well trained guards that watch the lake to keep people away from it. They say only the daimyo is allowed near it. 

Matsukawa Issei couldn't care less about a mad daimyo's obsession, but as a professional thief he's inclined to be _very_ interested in the daimyo's wealth. He's a very good thief, more importantly, and part of a group and steadily getting a reputation at Oikawa's left hand. Oikawa and Iwaizumi have both brains and brawn, and after a full three years building a small empire they're inclined to test their luck.

And Matsukawa, with his heavy lidded eyes and quick hands and broad shoulders and easy smile, is very good at getting hired as a laborer in wealthy households. 

Kofu-han is a thriving domain, the rich growing fatter and wealthier under the reins of the Tokugawa shogunate while the merchant class stagnates and those at the bottom grow ever more poor. The turn of the century has been good to the ruling class, and Oikawa and the rest of the crew are inclined to return some of that hoarded wealth back to circulation. The castle of the daimyo that Issei now serves is massive, sprawling, with high walls and moats and a sturdy keep. There are nearly twenty outbuildings, horses as well, and within the grounds a shrine to Inari stands proud and resolute. The estate of the daimyo is a beautiful one, tended with care, and those within the castle walls live both carefully and quietly. Issei, in his simple grey yukata, is nothing interesting. He doesn't wear merchants blue or black, or the dazzling colors of the nobility. With his dark hair and calm voice, he vanishes among the throngs of people within the estate. He is perfectly, utterly forgettable. 

Perfect for a thief casing a home. 

So he finds himself hauling rice flour for mochi to the kitchens in the daimyos' estate, and quietly counting guard rotations. He passes a pair on their way to the lake, and another set on their way back. Whistling tunelessly he hefts the flour higher on his shoulder and heads for the massive kitchen. He's been working for the daimyo for a month, and has ingratiated himself with the staff. Making the kitchen staff your friend is the most important part of big jobs. Everyone needs to eat, and the kitchen is the hub of gossip and shift changes. Issei has a notebook filled with coded poems about everything from who's sleeping with whom and what the time codes are for the treasury. He also notates the shifts for the lake, but pays little true attention to that. There's no reason to go looking for trouble, and youkai definitely qualify as trouble. 

The head cook, a cheerful little thing named Moniwa Kaname, beams at him as he hands the flour off to sharp tongued Futakuchi Kenji. “Thank you, Matsukawa-san! Sorry to make you go all the way to the gates and back.”

“No problem.” Issei steals one of the dumplings Moniwa has laid out for those who pass through, and dodges around someone passing with a massive pot of soup. “Anything else?”

Issei likes Moniwa. He's kind and terribly sweet, and runs his kitchen with a smile and an iron fist. It's hard _not_ to like him. He doesn't mind his work, running errands and doing all sorts of chores and repairs around the estate, but Moniwa's approval and kindness has gone a long way towards having accepted by the others and easing his stress. 

“Actually,” Moniwa says, motioning to a beautifully plated tray, “Can you take this to the lake? Usually I send Aone, but he's sick today. I'm certain you can handle this.”

There are fine foods on the tray, elegant nigiri and sushi rolls. Food for the youkai, it seems. 

“Sure. Why not?”

 

There's a small gazebo at the end of a dock on the lake. Issei passes a pair of patrolling guards, who see the laquered tray and nod to him, but ask no further questions. He walks down the wooden dock to the end, and notices there's no railing at the very end of the gazebo. It opens out completely onto the lake. There's a low table off to the side, which he's been instructed to set at the lakeside and put the tray on. He does so, looking out over the lake as he arranges everything. It's man made but beautiful. Lilies peacefully float on the surface of impossibly clear water. Fat koi in a rainbow of colors swim lazily through the water. There are trees on all sides, shading the banks, and in the center of the lake there's an enormous rock that looks like it catches all of the sun from every angle. It truly is a beautiful place. 

But not important to his goal of the treasury, so he turns to go. 

Behind him, there's a faint splash. 

Despite himself, he turns to look. At first he thinks it's just a trick of the light. But then a bit of the scales peek out of the water, and his breath catches in his throat. 

_Ningyou._

The youkai in the lake is a ningyou, one with a pink tail that shimmers with gold in the sunlight. He approaches through the clear water, pale skin dappled with pink and gold scales across his shoulders, and hair the same pale pink as his tail. His tail is enormous, with a golden set of fins to the side and the long back fin sheer and golden as well. Issei stares, stunned out of words as the ningyou pushes himself up out of the water to brace his top half on the floor of the gazebo. 

His eyes are a pearly gray, and he grins with completely normal teeth when he sees Issei frozen there. 

“What, never seen a ningyou before?”

“Nope,” Issei says, stunned out of his shock at the cheerful Japanese. “You're my first. Please take care of me, oh ningyou-san.”

The ningyou bursts out laughing. It's an utterly charming sound. “Oh, I like you.” He braces his elbows on the deck and puts his chin in his hands. “What's your name, handsome?”

Issei can't tear his eyes away. “Matsukawa. What about you?”

The ningyou _beams_. “No one ever asks me. _You_ , handsome Matsukawa, can call me Hanamaki.”

Hanamaki. It suits him perfectly. 

“Uusally the only person who talks to me is the daimyo,” Hanamaki says, plucking a piece of nigiri from the tray. He has very long, sharp looking fingernails. “Aone doesn't talk too much.” He flicks his eyes up from the food, fixing them on Issei's. “The daimyo's a jealous man. He doesn't like me talking to other people.”

It's a carefully worded warning, one that Issei ignores. 

“Pity. You have a nice voice.” Issei inches closer as Hanamaki grins at him. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Matsukawa.” The pale pink tail flashes in the sunlight. Hanamaki's smiles fades a little. “It is nice, talking to more people. It's pretty lonely, being stuck out here with just the fish for company.”

“You're stuck?” Issei frowns.

“I'm not here on vacation, that's for sure.” There's another flash of that perfect smile, and Issei's heart does something like a dance in his chest. “I lived in a river some distance from here, and some asshole caught me in a net and gave me to the daimyo as a gift.”

“Rude of them,” Issei says mildly. 

“Right?! Super rude. Anyway, there's a binding ring around the lake. I can't get out, or I'd just waltz out of here to freedom,” Hanamaki says, and wiggles his eyebrows. “Preferably with you in tow. Or you carrying me, I'm not picky on how I could get my hands on you.”

Issei laughs, and sits down across the little table from Hanamaki. “You're subtle as a brick.”

“The daimyo's ugly as fuck, and Aone's nice, but _you_ ,” Hanamaki smirks. “Humans get so big and bulky and broad. It's fascinating.”

“I could say the same to you.”

Hanamaki really does have a brilliant smile. 

“I should probably go,” Issei says reluctantly. He'll be needed at the main house soon. 

“Will I see you again?” Hanamaki asks, his face falling a little. 

“I'll try to come back, “Issei promises. “I don't know if I'll be able to, but I'll try. Maybe I can get Aone to switch off with him.”

“I'd like that,” Hanamaki says, long fingers fiddling with a stone on the deck. He looks almost shy, and a bit hopeful. 

“I would too.”

He should be standing up. But he doesn't. He stays seated, watching Hanamaki watching him back. In the distance, a bell calls out the hour. He doesn't want to go. 

“Well,” Hanamaki says, his smile a little more strained, “was it good for you too, Matsukawa?”

Issei laughs, his heart eased. “Yes, it was.” He stands up, and smiles down at the ningyou. Hanamaki smiles back, gray eyes fixed on him. “I'll try to come back soon.”

As he leaves the lake, his mind is spinning with a million thoughts. He doesn't like the idea of Hanamaki trapped and lonely in the lake, which means he needs to see if he can figure out a way to incorporate the theft of an eight foot long ningyou into their plans. And, more importantly, find a curse breaker who can actually get him out of the lake. They've used curse breakers before, but the ones Oikawa likes best probably won't be too happy to see him, not after their last fight.

He'll send a letter to Kyoutani and Yahaba anyway. Just to gauge their willingness to get involved. 

He's just curious, that's all. 

Shit, he can't even lie well to himself.

oOo

He has a day off a few days later, and meanders his way through town to dodge any tails before slipping into Oikawa and Iwaizumi's little house in the middle of town. There's a perfectly legitimate soba shop on the bottom, and he nods to Kindaichi and Kunimi in the kitchen before heading up the stairs to the living quarters.

Oikawa's in his office, pouring over maps and reams of paper with information about the estate and it's guards, dressed as usual in a light blue yukata and looking utterly fed up with life. Before the sumptuary laws outlawed clothes with elaborate patterns, Oikawa's clothing had been a riot of colors. Now, he sticks to the lightest blues he can manage and wears the most elaborate obi's he can get his hands on. His fingers are stained with ink from writing letters, and there's a smudge on his cheek where he must have forgotten. He barely glances up before returning to looking over the map on the page, one of Issei's missives. Issei doesn't miss how he slips a throwing knife back into his obi. “I think if we go the sleeping powder route we'll have the easiest time, but that's going to take at least another month to prepare.”

“I missed you too,” Issei drawls, sitting on one of the cushions. “So nice to see you, old friend, how's your knee? The garden's doing great.”

“Mm. Yes. Hi, Mattsun.”

“Where's your darling Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa huffs, turning a page. “Sleeping in, the lazy man.”

The door to the bedroom opens to reveal the man himself, scowling ferociously and dressed in a yukata that Issei knows is Oikawa's judging by the gaudy teal. “I am _not_ sleeping in, you little shit. Not with as loud as you've been all morning long, rattling around the house and up and down with papers. It's like there's been a flock of crows in and out of here.”

“Sawamura and that tiny demon of his brought by some papers for me about properties in Sendai and the enviorns, They're leaving this week to head up there. So I guess there were some crows.” Oikawa clicks his tongue. “Annoying ones, at that. Nishinoya is not to be trusted. He stole one of the lesser bottles of sake.”

Issei grins, and Iwaizumi makes a noise of general displeasure and stalks to the kitchen area for food. He's not a morning person.

“So hypothetically, if there's a curse on the property that needs breaking, we'd use Yahaba and Kyoutani, right?” Issei asks, as casually as he can manage. 

He might not have bothered, because this time Oikawa looks up with an expression of feverish dismay. “A _curse_? Mattsun! That changes our plans so much! Where's it at? Is it on the treasury?”

“Not exactly.” Issei can feel a bit of a blush on his cheeks. “What if, hypothetically, the daimyo had a ningyou trapped in the lake that couldn't escape and was really lonely and I wanted to help him?”

There's a clatter from the kitchen and Iwaizumi sticks his head through the door as Oikawa gapes at him. 

“A _what_?”

“A ningyou.”

“The daimyo _actually_ has a youkai? I thought that was just a rumor,” Oikawa demands, his eyes bright with both alarm and curiosity. “There really is something in the lake?”

“I thought it was a rumor too, right up until I talked to him a few nights ago,” Issei says. His cheeks feel strangely warm. “He's big, like a really long, bright pink koi, speckled with gold. His name is Hanamaki, and he's from up north. He lived in a river there for a while until someone caught him in a net and gave him to the daimyo. Now the lake has a spell ring around it so he can't escape. So, we'd. Y'know. Need curse breakers.”

Oikawa's mouth snaps shut. Iwaizumi stares at him, eyes narrowing.

“You like him,” Iwaizumi says abruptly, crossing his arms. 

“Well, yeah, he was interesting-”

Oikawa waves an elegant hand as Iwaizumi snorts. “Please, Mattsun, we've all known each other much too long for you to get away with that. Like Iwa-chan says, you _like_ him. Well, there's nothing for it I suppose. What's that saying about a fish may marry a something?”

“I've talked to him once!”

“A spring wedding would be nice,” Iwaizumi says thoughtfully. “We'd have to buy a place with river or a lake but that wouldn't be too bad.”

Issei rubs his forehead, and accepts defeat. “ _Anyway_ ,” he insists, “Yahaba and Kyoutani. Would they come be our curse breakers?”

“Of course,” Oikawa says, picking up a piece of paper. “If we tell them you've gone and fallen in love with a ningyou, they'll be moved to come and help even if our mad dog is still being his normal, obnoxiously independent self.”

“You love that they're independent, don't lie,” Iwaizumi says dryly, and Oikawa simply shrugs, passing him the paper. 

“Write the boys,” he says, and Issei gives in. 

 

The next day, Issei flags down Aone as he leaves the kitchen carrying the tray for Hanamaki. 

“Aone, hey!”

Aone stops, turning to him and waiting for him to speak. Issei motions to the tray. 

“Can I take it to the lake?”

Aone stares for a moment at him, eyes narrowing, and then realization seems to hit. He gives Issei a long, slightly disappointed look. Issei, despite his best intentions, feels his face go a little red. But Aone just shakes his head and hands the tray over, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder before turning and vanishing into the depths of the estate. Issei takes the tray, and tries not to look too eager as he heads for the lake. 

The guards nod at him again, paying little attention past the tray in his hands, and he heads out to the long dock. He fetches the table and sets the tray down. In the center of the lake, near the rock, he sees a splash. The koi, swimming in lazy circles, leave to other waters as Hanamaki swims towards him. His tail is incredibly long and powerful, and Issei wonders just how fast he could go if he wasn't cooped up in the lake. Hanamaki surfaces with a wide smile as Issei sits across the table from him. 

“You came back!”

“I did,” he agrees, and can't help smiling. “I probably can't trade with Aone every day, but I can probably come here and there.”

Hanamaki takes one of the nigiri from the plate, smiling. “I hoped you would.”

“I know the truth,” Issei says, draping a hand dramatically across his head. “You just want me for my muscles.”

Hanamaki laughs. “That and the oh-so-charming conversation.” He pops the nigiri in his mouth, eyes bright with good humor. Issei props his elbow on his knee and watches him quickly devour the food. Hanamaki eats quickly, then licks off his fingers with a pleased little hum. 

“What's it like, where you're from?” Issei asks. 

“Cold, kind of,” Hanamaki says, resting his arms on the deck of the gazebo. “The waters in the mountains to the north are glacier fed, so they're very cold and clear. The lakes are deep and full of fish. But none of them are as pretty as me.”

“Yeah, that was a given.” 

Hanamak laughs, charmed. “One day I want to go back there. I don't know where it is, in relation to the land bits. Once I get in a river I'll know, but not until then.” 

“One day I'll take you back,” Issei promises. 

“Oh, is that so?”

Issei grins, winking at him. “It is. Just hold onto hope for a little bit longer.” 

“And why's that?” 

“Because, o beautiful pink fish-man of mine, I am _very_ good at what I do.”

oOo

Kyoutani and Yahaba arrive just a week before they're due to rob the place, dusty from the road but obviously happy to be back.

It's been a while since Issei's seen the pair, and they haven't learned to get along any better since the last time. Kyoutani's head is shaved now, the former strange color from smuggled dyes gone, and Yahaba's once long and carefully maintained silver is now cut short and flops around his head in an easy sort of manner. It looks like a failed attempt at Oikawa's haircut, which Issei decides not to mention as he doesn't want to lose his hands if Yahaba takes offense. Normally charming and sweet, Yahaba has a temper under all his fine manners and pretty yukata, and Issei's not inclined to push his luck. 

“Oikawa-san!”

“Yahaba-chan!”

That's nothing new, at least. Issei leans on the wall as Yahaba and Oikawa begin their normal routine of cooing at each other and fussing at each others hair and clothing, exclaiming about trips and other assorted projects they've undertaken. They're a set of peas in a pod, Oikawa having molded Yahaba into his image over the years, and Issei finds himself smiling at how happy Yahaba looks to be home. Yahaba and Kyoutani ran with Seijoh for most of their teens, the crew more of a home than their own had ever been. 

Kyoutani, dressed in farmers clothes and looking uncertain, slinks into the room properly after hovering in the doorway. Iwaizumi is on him in seconds, and Issei smiles as Kyoutani rears back, only to be caught by one massive hand. 

“There you are, let me get a look at you. How's Hyougo? Is Osaka as bad as they say? What have you done to your _hair_ , brat, you look like a monk-”

Iwaizumi fusses over him just as much as Oikawa fusses over Yahaba, and Kyoutani goes from tense to starry eyed in little time. Despite their declaration of striking out on their own, and the ensuing arguments, it's good to see them again. Issei's heart aches a little, missing Watari as well, but Watari's a proper shopkeep now. He has a legitimate life and business, and to take him away from that would be cruel. Issei had always been closest to him, with his gentle laugh and his kind smile, and had taught him everything he knew. Now, he teaches Kindaichi the fine art of ingratiation, lock picking, and light fingers. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are called downstairs to help with something in the restaurant, and Yahaba comes over to him with a smile. 

“Hello, Matsukawa-san!”

Issei grins. “I think you're old enough to be calling me Mattsun, Yahaba. Welcome back. Good to see you both.”

Kyoutani gives him an awkward nod before escaping to the guest room, and Yahaba rolls his eyes. 

“He's been jumpy ever since we crossed the border,” he explains, going to his pack to fetch out a new inkstone. “Here, we found this on the way and thought you might like it. For your writing.”

Issei refuses to blush. Before his family's... before he became a thief, he'd been well on his way to a fine and leisurely life of education, and he was the one to teach all of their crew to read and write, including Iwaizumi and Oikawa. Kunimi could be a fine scribe in the future, and Iwaizumi already writes exquisite poetry that's gaining a bit of traction. Oikawa struggles with it the most, he knows, though Oikawa keeps that knowledge away from the rest; the fact that their illustrious leader needs his better half to read letters some days seems to be a source of personal shame, even though Issei can't figure out why. 

The inkstone is heavy and smooth to the touch, matte black stone, with simple carvings of birds in flight around the lip. The dip, where water is mixed with the ink-stick, has been worn very smooth and is pleasing to the touch. 

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, running his fingers along the edges to feel the texture of it. “I was starting to need a new one.”

Yahaba's smile is bright and infectious, and Issei wraps an arm around his shoulder in a quick hug before taking the inkstone to put with his stored belongings. He doesn't want it to be accidentally left somewhere he can't access it. 

Dinner is raucous with most of the crew back together. Kindaichi's thrilled to have Yahaba home, Kunimi eats companionable silence with Kyoutani, and they all share stories over Iwaizumi's food. Issei's heart aches even as he laughs. He's missed his family, very badly, and it's good to have some of them back with him. Oikawa breaks out the good sake, despite Iwaizumi's complaints that it's for the New Year celebrations, and even Kunimi has a bit just to celebrate everyone being together. Once dinner is done, all of them wonderfully full and obi's far too tight, everyone retires back upstairs for the evening. Kunimi and Kindaichi vanish out to the balcony to sleep there instead, and Issei sags against the wall as futons are dragged out. 

He needs to get back to the estate, where work waits for him in the morning and Hanamaki is trapped in the lake. 

He doesn't want to leave. 

Kyoutani appears at his side. “You going back tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, and Kyoutani shifts his weight. 

“I'll walk with you.” 

“You gonna be able to find your back, stray puppy?”

Kyoutani scowls at him, but Issei just ruffles what little hair he has with a chuckle and heads for the door with him in tow. 

Walking through the city at late evening isn't bad. The temperature is mild, the night calm, and Issei rests his hands in his sleeves as they walk towards the estate. Kyoutani wears a well used pair of _tanto_ in his obi, covered by his haori, and Issei knows he must have several more hidden on his person. He's a dangerous fighter, their little mad dog, and he's proud of how well he's turned out. 

“Osaka's good,” Kyoutani says abruptly, “but it's... not like here. S'not home. 'Haba's been sad without everybody, but we gotta... we gotta do our own thing. But I like reading the letters you send. I've been practicing so I don't forget stuff, and the- the kana helps.”

“Good.” Issei smiles, tipping his head back to look up at the stars. “How's the business?”

“Good. Lotta curses in Osaka for some reason, spirits and gods and stuff too. Way above our pay grade, but we've seen a lot of things now.” Kyoutani gnaws at his lip, his deep set eyes with their thick lashes flicking over to him properly. “Um, and uh. Other stuff, with me 'n Yahaba. That happened.”

“About time,” Issei says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You're happy about it?”

Kyoutani goes pink and looks at the street. “...'es.”

“Good.” 

They're almost to the estate before Issei says, “He's a lot, you know.”

“Who, Yahaba?”

“No, the uh. The youkai. He's a lot, for me. Like Yahaba is for you. So... just do your best, because I don't want to have to walk away from him,” Issei spills out, all in one shaky confession. Kyoutani stops dead in his tracks, staring at him with wide eyes. Issei never talks about himself, not really, and he can feel a blush crawling shamefully up his neck and cheeks. “I just. I want him to be happy, and safe, and- you know. With me, maybe. Or free, if not with me.”

Kyoutani nods, expression going somber. “We'll get him out. We'll make sure of it.”

Issei rubs the back of his neck, still hot with embarrassment, and is about to leave when Kyoutani stops him. 

“Hey,” he says, and looks incredibly embarrassed as well. “I know we're just... just your kids and your family, but we're good at this. We really are. We'll get him out.”

Issei swallows around the lump in his throat and nods. It's the best he can do. 

They part in silence, and Issei heads to the gates to be let back in. The guards let him through with familiar waves and nods, some quick jokes about a day spent drinking with friends, and Issei's skin crawls as the gate shuts behind him with a cold finality. 

The next time he sees his family, it'll be the night before their attack.

oOo

Issei can't get away from his duties to take the tray to Hanamaki the next night. Aone looks apologetic when he comes in from laboring on the repair work of an outbuilding, but Issei just claps him on the shoulder and eats his dinner. The castle settles down for the night, the servants retiring to their building and the guards going to theirs, others leaving the castle for their homes outside the gates. Issei waits until dark to slip out of the castle and make his way to the lake. The guard rotation is fully ingrained in his mind now, and he avoids them with ease as he slips out onto the dock and hurries down to the end. It's one night before the true full moon, and the near complete moon illuminates the water beautifully. Everything is shades of silver and black, the water sparkling as light bounces off of the little waves.

He reaches the end of the dock and crouches down, the railing's pattern enough to help disguise him as long as he stays down. The water laps at the pilings that hold the gazebo a mere six inches above the surface. Issei is about to call out, softly, but he sees a flash of a tail and smiles as Hanamaki glides through the water to him. 

“It's late,” Hanamaki says as he surfaces, smiling. “You missed me that badly, you took a risk to come out here?”

“I couldn't help myself,” Issei says with a smile. “It's been a few days.”

“Well nothing happened here,” Hanamaki says, propping his chin in his hands and grinning at him. “What happened while you were away?”

Issei smiles, and begins telling him all about his week. Hanamaki listens with wide eyed fascination as he talks, and he's just about to tell him about their soon to be enacted plan when he hears voices. There's a commotion by the end of the dock, voices carrying across the water in garbled sounds. Someone on the approach, bypassing the guards.

There's no time to run, so he doesn't even try. Issei slips off of the dock and presses himself tight to the side of the gazebo, getting as far underneath it as possible. The water is bitterly cold now that the sun is down, and when he turns his head he can see a light coming down the dock, carried by the daimyo himself. Hanamaki gives him a quick warning glance, and Issei sinks lower in the water, clenching his teeth so they won't chatter. 

“Ah, you're waiting for me,” the daimyo's deep voice says, and Hanamaki's tail thrashes angrily in the water. 

“It's that or be dragged over with the spell net, so I thought I'd save myself the hassle,” he retorts. Issei runs his mind over the idea of a spell net, and grimaces. It sounds painful.

“Seems like you're finally starting to learn. The silence is finally teaching you something, isn’t it? It’s much easier if you’ve friendly to me when I’m here. I control how much the kitchen feeds you, don’t forget.”

“Mm, sure. And I’m sure that you’re liable to go through with that threat,” Hanamaki says, cocking his head to the side, “right as soon as you decide I’m no longer worth the time. But that hasn’t happened yet, or I’d be very, very dead. But you need luck on your side, shogun, and I’m the perfect charm against losing your position.”

“You’re an art installation for my enjoyment,” the daimyo says, shuffling forward. Issei looks up. The daimyo is almost on top of him, the slats in the wood showing that he was dressed down for the evening. But the treasury key hangs temptingly from his obi, dangling slightly. Issei stares at it, eyes wide. It would save so much time. “Luck has little to do with it, no matter what the rumors are about your kind. I’ve yet to see pearls come leaking from your eyes, and my luck has stayed the same since your arrival.”

“Has it?” Hanamaki raises an eyebrow. “Funny thing about luck- hard to know how much good luck you have before it’s gone.”

Issei stares at the key. 

It slips from the obi and falls soundlessly and perfectly through the slats, right onto his shoulder. Issei stares at it, hand clamped tight over his mouth to keep any sound from coming out. The key remains solid and real, and he carefully reaches up to clutch it with his free hand. The metal is heavy and warm. 

_Ningyou are lucky_.

“Regardless, it's quite something, to have a ningyou in my possession,” the daimyo says. “You were a prize well worth your price. And you should be more grateful. I give you fine foods, and have created this beautiful lake for you to enjoy.”

“A cage is a cage, no matter how pretty its bars,” Hanamaki says dryly. “I appreciate you trying to make me think otherwise.”

“And in this cage you'll remain until I tire of you,” the daimyo says, leaning forward. “Legends say that the flesh of a ningyou grants eternal life. You'd best hope I don't lose my interest in you for a long time.”

Hanamaki practically hisses, tail thrashing in the water, and the daimyo laughs as he turns and leaves. Once the light is completely gone Issei slumps in relief back against the pilings. The water churns as Hanamaki swims to him, eyes wide in alarm. 

“You could have been killed,” he hisses, but Issei doen't care, because Hanamaki pulls him in tight against his chest. He's stronger than he looks, and more importantly he's warm. Issei huddles in his arms, key clenched tight in his fist. 

“B-b-bu-t-t-t I wasn't,” he manages, the cold making it hard to talk. Even for summer, the water is bitter. “I hate him.”

“This isn't news.” Hanamaki flicks his tail, pulling them around the edge of the gazebo so he can help Issei out of the water and onto the deck. The warm air is a relief even as it stings his skin, and Issei flops onto his back, pulling at his wet clothes until he's free of them. They'll dry easier without him in them, and he'll dry faster too. He's careful to put the key on one of the stone pilings that hold the gazebo up, and finally looks back at Hanamaki. 

Hanamaki's eyeing him up without a lick of shame. 

“See something you like?” Issei asks, amused despite himself. 

“Yep. We've established this.”

Issei smiles, and slips back into the water. 

Hanamaki yelps in surprise as Issei surfaces again, silver eyes wide. “What are you-”

“I've gotta wait for the cloth to dry anyway,” Issei says innocently, and Hanamaki rolls his eyes. “Come on, it's cold. Warm me up.”

“You're not subtle.”

“Never claimed to be.”

Hanamaki pulls him in again, and this time Issei wraps his arms around him in return. He really is warm, and his long tail flicks back and forth to keep them steady. Issei looks up, meeting his eyes, and throws caution to the wind. 

As far as first kisses go, it's a good one, just a bit of teeth to tease and the rich softness of plush lips. Issei sighs against him, Hanamaki tugging him in tight for a moment before leaning back. 

“You're risking a lot,” Hanamaki says carefully. 

Issei kisses his cheek. “What's life without a few risks?”

“Safer, historically.”

Issei shrugs, pulling back to look at him properly. Hanamaki's smiling, his eyes gone soft. 

“Safe wouldn't have got me here,” he says quietly, reaching up to cup Hanamaki's cheek. “Safe would mean we never met, and I never met my family. I'm not much for safety, these days.”

Hanamaki considers this, and sighs a little. “I feel like I'm falling down a waterfall, completely out of control. We're playing with fire, and one of us is going to get burned.”

“I can live with a few more scars.”

Issei kisses him one more time, slow and sweet, before pulling himself back up onto the gazebo, dripping wet. 

“I'll get you out of here,” he promises, and Hanamaki sighs. 

“You don't ever give up, do you?” He's smiling all the same, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Of course I do. I give up on things that don't matter.” Issei pulls on his clothes, a touch damp but mostly dry from the hot summer air. “You're not one of those things.”

Hanamaki's smile is brilliant even in the darkness. “Sap.”

“You've got me there.”

He bends down, slipping his fingers under Hanamaki's chin to tilt his face up to kiss him slow and soft. Hanamaki sighs against his lips, their hands clasping together. 

“I'll be back soon,” Issei whispers, and Hanamaki's smile is enough to sustain him for weeks.

oOo

It goes off without a hitch. Issei is well known in the kitchens, and he laces all of the incoming food with the knockout powder. Kunimi's magic will do the rest once he's inside, but it's soup for dinner and that makes it even easier to lace. The entire estate eats at the same time, after all, and anyone missed by the knockout powder will be sought out by Kunimi's magic and taken out. Issei takes his bowl of soup and is sitting among everyone, nibbling on rice instead as people began to make noises of confusion and fall forward or backward. The estate falls silent in minutes, and he feels a thrum in the air that suggests Kunimi's begun his part of the work.

He stands up from the table, heading out the door. People are scattered here and there, completely unconcious. He runs down to the main gate, the place most likely to be an issue, but as he rounds a bend in the road, six figures all in form fitting black appear soundlessly in front of him. 

They're familiar, as ever. Oikawa's eyes _burn_ when he's on a job. 

“The gate guards?”

Iwaizumi nods to the youngest two, also dressed all in black. “Kunimi got them.”

“Got them?” Issei echoes as they turn to run in near perfect silence up to the keep itself. 

Kunimi shows him the darts he carries at his hip, raising his eyebrows. “Knock out poisons. It won't kill them, just put them to sleep for a long time. Did you think I started learning poison making for fun?”

Issei shrugs. Kunimi considers that, and shrugs back. 

“You're right, that does seem like something I'd do.”

They slip away into the castle itself, the key heavy in Issei's hands. The treasury isn't hard to get to, kept on the first floor where the heaviest traffic is and it'll be easiest to cart away in the event fire or calamity. Unfortunately for the daimyo, that calamity happens to be some of the best thieves in the Chubu region who live right on his doorstep. They pass numbers of people passed out, and the guards at the treasury door are unconscious as they stride up. Oikawa grins, nasty and feral, and stretches his fingers. He looks wild in the darkness, high on the thrill, and Issei feels a smile creep onto his face. 

It never gets old, watching Oikawa at work. 

“I love it when a plan comes together,” Oikawa hums, and steps aside to bow Issei to the door. He bows mockingly back, and slips the key in the lock. 

It truly is a treasure horde fit for a daimyo. Gold and jewels, fine silks and rare paintings, beautiful carved woods and magnificent swords, it's one thing to read the treasure list on paper and another thing entirely to see it in person. The riches are immense, gleaming and ripe for the plucking. The crew all stare in wonder for a moment, eyes locked on all of the treasure, before Iwaizumi shakes free of its spell and steps forward. 

“Let's get going.”

They'll take only what they can carry. Oikawa has already selected from a list the most valuable and smallest of objects. Packs are filled with care, months of training carrying around heavy weights having acclimatized their bodies to moving with the new and cumbersome objects. They take almost all of the swords as well, slipping them into belts. Oikawa's eyes gleam as he takes down a razor sharp _naginata_ in teak and shifting blue steel, his favored weapon. Issei selects a set of swords that Kunimi takes without question, slipping them on to match the brace of knives and sleek bow on his back. Gems and jewels are loaded into pockets, Yahaba's slender neck becoming bedecked in rare fine jade and precious stones. 

With the loot collected on everyone but Issei, they close and lock up the door. They slip out of the castle, making a quick detour into the Hall where the daimyo sits lolled onto the table. Issei, feeling a touch vindictive, puts the key in his limp hand. 

They leave the castle without a second look back, Kunimi and Kindaichi peeling away to head for the gate and to stash their loot, the heaviest of the lot. The rest of the crew head towards the lake, Issei's heart in his throat. 

The guards there are knocked unconscious as well, but through spellwork done by Yahaba. Kunimi's good for broad range things, Yahaba best at short and precise. Yahaba weaves usettling magic between his fingers like a net, and casts it out into the darkness. The spell, glowing with pale white light, zips around the the path of the lake. Bodies thud to the ground in the distance and, unwilling to wait anymore, Issei runs for the dock. There's a hissed curse from the laden down team behind him, but he ignores it as he runs out down the wooden slats to the gazebo, and looks out over the water. 

“Hanamaki,” he calls, barely louder than his usual speaking voice, unable to keep away from the fear that someone might hear them. By the center rock, there's a splash, and his heart pounds as Hanamaki swims towards him. The moonlight streams down and comes through the water, reflecting off his pale skin as he approaches through the clear water. He pushes himself half out of the water onto the dock with a smile, but it fades when he sees the others approaching along the dock. 

“What-”

“Do you still want out of here?” Issei interrupts, and Hanamaki's eyes go wide as he takes in the jewels decorating Oikawa's throat and Iwaizumi's grin as they reach Issei. 

“Oh. Fuck yes.”

“That's what I thought.”

On the banks, a light flares up and a guttural snarl echoes over the water as the air _shudders_ and snaps, what looks like miniature lightning strikes kicking up around the edges before fading into darkness again. Energy seems to rush through him like a wave, then dissipates into nothingness. They all stagger, Oikawa grabbing Iwaizumi's arm. 

“What am I going to get the man who has everything,” Hanamaki muses, his silver eyes reflecting a gleam in the moonlight. “Friends, nice jewelry, pretty clothes, weapons, a curse breaker... You really have thought of everything. I'm going to have a hard time paying you back for this.”

“We brought a canvas so we can transport you-” Oikawa begins, but Hanamaki's already pulling himself out of the water and....

Stands on the dock. 

With two legs. 

Two naked legs. 

“Did you bring me some clothes?” Hanamaki asks, smiling. 

The trio's eyes all go helplessly down, as if dragged by gravity, and Iwaizumi yelps as Oikawa slaps a hand over his eyes. 

“Oikawa!”

“Avert your eyes, Iwa-chan, you must remain pure!”

Iwaizumi growls, “How the fuck am I supposed to do that if I'm dating you, you piece of shit-”

Issei gives a slow whistle, not looking away from Hanamaki, whose smile gets even bigger.

Oikawa squawks in offense, cheeks flushing pink. He's so easily flustered. “Mattsun!”

“Shut it, Oikawa,” Issei says absently, admiring Hanamaki's legs. “Let me have this. I didn't know you could have legs.”

Hanamaki grins at him, hand on his hip. Much like in his normal form, he's long and sleek, and there's a few dustings of gold and pink scales on his legs. “It's an acquired talent. I can become fully fish as well, but that's not nearly as much fun.”

“I think there's a kimono in my pack,” Iwaizumi says, pulling Oikawa's hand off his eyes. Oikawa's still bright pink, but starts digging through it and triumphantly pulls out a bundle of silk. Shaking it out reveals a magnificent grey _kosode_ with dropped sleeves, the pattern on it a riot of beautiful blue and red flowers towards the base. The silk is clearly expensive make, the colors made with dapple-dye technique; outlawed under the sumptuary laws for anyone below a samurai. Hanamaki slips it on, and an obi is located from the pack as well, garish yellow against the fine fabric. 

He's just finished when Yahaba and Kyoutani jog up the dock and skid to a halt. 

There's an awkward pause as Kyoutani stares wide eyed and Yahaba's jaw drops.

“I thought you said he had a tail,” Yahaba blurts out, and Hanamaki snickers.

“Just most of the time.”

Issei grins, giddy with relief. “Everyone, this is Hanamaki. Hanamaki, this is Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Kyoutani Kentarou, and Yahaba Shigeru. My family. Well, most of them, there's a few more.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Hanamaki says, and takes his hand. “Let's get out of here.”

His hand is cold from the water, but Issei holds it tight as they all walk back along the dock. It feels like little more than the time needed to take a breath before they're at the gates, the unconcious guards slumped by the walls. Oikawa and Iwaizumi pull their masks back over their faces, peeking around to double check that they're in the clear. All is well, and they slip out of the gates as though they're beings of smoke. Hanamaki hesitates, squeezing his hand. 

“Go,” Issei says, kissing him. “I'll meet up with you tomorrow.” 

“Can't wait,” Hanamaki says, and flashes a smile at him. “See you soon. And every day after that.” 

Issei lets them go, and ignores the wrenching of his heart as he hurries back up to the keep.

Issei has little time. He sets the papers on fire, blowing on them so that they burn merrily into ash, removing any traces of his notes from existence. They were encoded, but it's not impossible to break codes, and Issei doesn't want to take chances. It'll take them at least a week to be ready to flee to Edo and wrap up their last bit of business in the city. It wouldn't do to leave too quickly, and give themselves away. With the papers dealt with, he goes to the kitchen and settles in a corner, slumping himself over a body, and takes the small package from where it's been shoved in his obi. The powder inside does not look appetizing. 

“Oh well,” he mutters, and dumps it in his mouth. He tosses the container into the flames, settling his head on someone's legs, and watches the fire as his head begins to swim. 

Blackness wells up, and drags him into its depths.

oOo

Issei wakes up with a sword to his throat, and immediately realizes that he's made a grave mistake in not simply fleeing.

“Up,” the guard says. He knows the man; Semi is his name, and he looks scared. “Hurry, get up.”

Issei slowly gets to his feet, swaying where he stands. The kitchens are in utter disarray, guards shuttling back and forth with servants and staff being hauled to and fro with their hands tied behind their backs. As he watches, he sees Moniwa being dragged away. There's a nasty bruise on his face from a slap- he must have fought back. His heart sinks in fear. 

“What's going on?” he asks, genuinely concerned and confused. 

“Someone knocked the _entire_ estate out, robbed the treasury, and took the youkai from the lake,” Semi says. He takes Issei's arm, not hard, just enough to keep hold of him. “The daimyo wants answers, and the staff will have to answer them or face death if no one is found guilty.”

Semi's hands are trembling. 

“Semi,” Issei says, keeping his voice very low as he follows along, “Semi, you have a lot of friends here. Family.”

“What of it?”

“Are you willing to sit by and watch them be slaughtered?”

Semi freezes, and Issei grasps his free hand. Semi's eyes are wild as they meet his, and he shakes his head in a tight movement. 

“Semi,” Issei says, looking around. They haven't been noticed. “Go in to the city, towards the middle. On Crookleg street, there's a soba shop with the kanji for “river” carved above the door. Do you know what that looks like?”

Semi shakes his head, his eyes fixed tight on him. 

“Three lines, the first one slightly curved to the left at the bottom. Crookleg street, soba shop, three lines over the door. Talk to the workers, tell them everything that's going on. They're my family, they'll help get people out,” Issei rattles off, keeping his voice down. People are shoving past them, and they're starting to get looks. “Do you have all of that?”

“Crookleg Street, soba, three lines over the door,” Semi breathes. “Matsukawa, you're a servant. What can your family possibly do?”

“Well, you see,” Issei says, “We're unnaturally lucky.”

He's thrown in with some of the servants and kitchen staff into a room in one of the outbuildings, one with strong walls and a small window. The door is barred from the outside, and he sits on the floor with others as stunned silence gives way to fearful weeping, questions, and anger. After all of their intricate and careful planning, they had forgotten the most important part of the heist- what happens to those left behind?

There are, at Matsukawa Issei's count in carefully and meticulously kept notes, no less than 82 general staff in the estate. There are 147 guards. 29 family members. Zero youkai, now. 

One very angry daimyo. 

An angry daimyo with the power and authority to purge and kill his staff, and still have the ability to take whoever he desires from the city; an angry daimyo with ties to the current shogun, and free rein to do as he wishes with his subjects. With the sumptuary laws in place ferociously cutting the work of tailors, weavers, dyers, and hundreds of others, no one would be able to truly say no. Not even with as blood stained as the daimyo's hands would be. 

Bile and fear well up in his throat, and he takes a deep breath. There's no use panicking now, even if this was in no way part of the plan. He moves through the throngs of people to up against a wall, wanting nothing more than settle so that his head could ache and spin in peace. He makes a mental note to talk to Kunimi about the side effects as he slides to the floor next to a silent but obviously scared Aone. Moniwa's on the other side, unnaturally silent, his head bowed. The bruise has begun to darken, and his other eye has been blacked, with a cut on his lip and eyebrow to finish the look.

“What happened?” Issei asks. 

“I'm going to be tortured,” Moniwa says softly, the faintest whisper. He's barely audible over the crying and yelling. “I'm the head cook, they're going to torture me to see if I did it or I know who does. And since I don't, I'm going to die. I'm going to die today.”

“No one's dying today,” Futakuchi says from Moniwa's other side. “No one's dying for at least three days.”

“Why?”

Aone speaks up, then. “They'll send the torturers from Edo. It's three days travel.”

Issei's blood curdles in fear. 

“You'd better get ready,” Futakuchi says, with no trace of humor. “You and Aone-kun will get questioned with Moniwa-san first, probably.”

Aone buries his face in his hands as Issei stares at him in horror. 

“ _What?_ Why me?”

“The youkai is gone and you were the ones who took food to the lake the most,” Kamasaki says as he pushes through to them, and kneels in front of Moniwa. “Kaname-”

“I'm fine, Yasushi-kun.” Moniwa tries to smile at him, but winces as it pulls at his cuts. “I'm fine.”

The night is spent with all of them crammed together, Aone sleeping against Issei's shoulder and Kamasaki curled up with Moniwa. Issei dozes, nothing else, fear and nerves curdling his stomach. There's a few people sniffling and crying in the dark, and he looks up to the bars on the windows where moonlight is pouring in to illuminate the space with his heart in his throat. The daimyo is a cold man, outright cruel at times, and all he can do to fix the situation has been done. He just hopes that Semi was able to get the news to Oikawa.

Morning comes far too soon, and with it, the guards. They're all roused from restless sleep by the doors being dragged open, and guards with helmets on come pouring in. Aone, Kamasaki, Moniwa, Issei, and a handful of others are dragged to their feet and their arms bound with rope. Moniwa is the first taken from the room, Kamasaki calling helplessly after him and Aone struggling as they're held back. Finally they're hauled out as well, brought up the winding paths and into the castle and from there, into the Hall. 

The Hall is a mess, the room covered in broken objects from the daimyo's rage. There's broken tables, ripped hanging scrolls, scattered food and plates. The atmosphere is, in a word, tense. The daimyo is screaming and yelling, spit flying from his mouth. Moniwa is tied up in front of him, and Issei is shoved down with Aone against the edge of the dais. 

“Where is he?!” The daimyo screams. “Where is the ningyou, where is my treasure!? Who bribed you to steal my possessions?!”

“I swear on my life, my lord, it was not me,” Moniwa begs, and the daimyo slaps him hard across the face. Moniwa crumples and across the room, Futakuchi tries to break free of the guards holding him to run to him. 

“Tell me where he-”

The doors to the audience chamber fly open, slamming against the wall as wind rushes in and sends clothes flying. Issei turns, and his heart jumps to his throat. Hanamaki stands in the doorway, proud and powerful, grinning with all his sharp teeth and his eyes flashing like silver coins. He's dressed in a silver kosode and white obi, no tabi at all, just the slightest amount of clothing. Issei watches as he strides into the hall, the guards staying far back. No one tries to stop him. The daimyo slowly rises from his seat, eyes fixed tight on Hanamaki. 

“I did warn you, daimyo,” Hanamaki says, grinning lazily. “Funny, how you never know your luck was good until it turns bad. You're looking all the wrong places for blame.”

“ _You_ ,” the daimyo breathes. “You did this?”

“Did you really think that a mere curse on a lake would hold me?” Hanamaki mocks, cocking his head. It's a lie, but told in a classy and believable way. Issei is terrified for him and, admitted, a little turned on by this display of power. Fuck, he really needs to do some introspection on that. “I know more of what it means to break bonds and bones than you ever will. Let these people go. They had nothing to do with this.”

“You _demon_ -”

“That's what they all say,” Hanamaki drawls, and walks up to the dais. The daimyo stays frozen in place as he leans in close, smiling with sharp teeth. “Your luck's run out, daimyo. And from here on out, you're cursed. Any cruelty you give will be returned to you twice-over, and your children's children will curse your name for your stupidity in thinking you could hold a ningyou.” Iridescent scales glitter on his cheekbones, catching in the light. “You lose, daimyo.” 

His hand flashes out, grabbing the front of the daimyo's robes and hauling him up. Hanamaki whistles cheerfully, dragging him from the room even as the daimyo screams. The doors slam behind him without ever being touched, and for a moment, everyone stands there in stunned silence. Then the room dissolves into chaos, people running and the guards scurrying around to free those tied up. Moniwa is freed first, and all but collapses with relief. Semi appears out of nowhere and cuts through Issei's ropes, and gives him a long look. Issei blinks innocently at him. 

“Interesting family you've got,” he says at last. “Don't let the tall one run too wild when you leave town.”

“Dunno what you're talking about,” Issei says mildly. 

“Sure, sure. Don't spend it all in one place.”

“Don't think I'm sticking around for my last pay, thanks all the same.”

Semi sighs, shaking his head, and jogs away to go find his friends. People are rushing for the exit, everyone fleeing the castle as fast as they can. Issei strolls through the crowds to where Aone and Kamasaki are helping up Moniwa. 

“So,” he says conversationally, “I'm moving to Sendai. Want to come with?”

“You know, I think I do,” Moniwa says with brittle cheer. Kamasaki presses his face to the top of Moniwa's hair, taking a shuddering breath as he holds him, and Issei nods his approval. 

“I think it's time to go.”

Oikawa's waiting at the gates, smile broad and easy. Iwaizumi stands behind him, cleaning his fingernails with a knife, Kyoutani and Yahaba loitering further down the street. 

“You know,” Issei says as he walks out, the last of the group to do so, “I think we could stand to have a change in scenery.”

“I'm inclined to agree,” Oikawa says, and Issei turns to see Hanamaki casually strolling out of the gate, picking his teeth with a slim blade from the daimyo's belt. 

“So,” he says cheerfully, “Where next?”

Issei wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him in to kiss him. Hanamaki goes easily, smiling against his lips. 

“You know,” Issei says with a smile, “I was thinking somewhere north.”

oOo

Sendai-han is as beautiful as they say. The castle is magestic, the rivers clean and cold. The cities are charming, the mountains tall. Sendai city is bustling and charming, booming with industry, and it's not unusual for a small group of people to come in and grow established.

Moniwa Kaname's cooking becomes a favorite of Date Yoshimura. It takes time, but eventually he builds a restaurant with his team in the shadow of the castle walls. It's simply called “The Wall”, and well liked by all who eat there. In the Aoba area another restaurant springs up, one that becomes home to a fine young poet who goes only by Ichi in his writing, and a charming young man who may or may not plague the city from time to time when he's bored and needs something to steal. It becomes a place to learn to write, Iwaizumi-san willing to teach reading and writing to any interested in learning. They build a side room, and Oikawa jokingly writes, in a shaking hand, “Aoba Johsai” above the door. 

And two fishers live near the cold mountain river, up away from town and near a wide, beautiful lake. They bring in good fish, and never seem to be short of money. They smile at each other all the time, the others of Sendai city notice. They laugh and joke, and spend their time making the owners of Aoba Johsai laugh when they're in town.

Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro live quietly, happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> After literally MONTHS, this is finally complete. Much thanks to Cheesyshenanigans, cheerleader and Matsuhana hype master, and Anoneesan, who is just way too good to me. 
> 
> Most of the information in this work is fairly close to historically accurate. Sumptuary laws came into effect in Japan early in the 1700's, when this is set. This is set roughly between 1700-1710. The fashion is as close to the time period as I could get it. This is set in the Chibu region, specifically in Kofu, around the year 1710. It likely would have taken around 3 days at the time to get from Edo to Kofu. The shogun in Edo would be the former daimyo of Kofu, Tokugawa Ienobu, and the actual diamyo of Kofu at the time would have been Tokugawa Ietsugo- who was all of 2 years old. So we have an invented daimyo in a castle without a man made lake but WITH a moat. But there is space for a manmade lake! Suspend your disbelief.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this piece! I had a lot of fun writing it even though it took forever. You can find me at heronfem on tumblr and pillowfort, and @HeronVinn on twitter! Please do leave a comment with your thoughts, they keep me motivated to keep creating.


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